


Red Hands

by hivers



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: Bratt, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hivers/pseuds/hivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As The Great Depression descends on 1930's New Jersey, people hold on to their last scraps of food, cling to whatever money is left, and sell what they have to sell to make enough to get by. In the aftermath of his father getting killed by vengeful gangsters, with his mother long deceased from tuberculosis, Brian Haner Jr finds himself on the streets and rundown alleys of the city, forced to steal what he needs to survive. He does alright, until he stumbles upon a group of people like himself - the Renegades - and realizes he is in way over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Streets

     It was a cool morning, and Brian could see his breath forming clouds of vapor in front of his face as he huffed it out, running through an alley that couldn't fit two people abreast. The small purse he had nicked was clenched tightly in his right hand, his fingers stiff and slightly hurting from the cold.  
     The ground was still wet from the heavy rainfall that had swept over the city before dawn, so he crouched down instead of sitting behind the moldy fence that concluded the narrow street. He emptied the contents of the purse onto the damp stones the alley was paved with, throwing it away when he'd made sure there was nothing more in it.  
     Brian's fingers had left small dirt-smudges on the light fabric, and as the purse lay on the ground, water soaking through it, Brian turned his hands and looked at them, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. The ridges of his fingernails were almost black from ingrained dirt, and the whole of his hand was a shade darker than the skin on his arm from the dust and grime that had gathered, though he looked cleaner now than he had before the rain. His hair was a complete tangle, and even as he tried to run his hand through it, he couldn't, his fingers getting stuck in the knots. The things he'd do for a bath right now.  
     Living on the streets was alright enough; manageable at least when the nights still weren't too cold, and the days were warm. The transition from late summer to autumn was already almost complete, though, and as days passed and winter got closer, Brian couldn't help but wonder how he was going to keep getting by, though he tried his best not to think of it, as an inevitable terrible outcome was the only thing that came to mind whenever he did.  
     In front of his feet now lay a small selection of various items. Lipstick, a pocket-mirror, some money and a pearl necklace. Huh, Brian thought. No wonder that lady had held on to her purse so fiercely.  
     He left the makeup on the street, grabbed the coins and pocketed the necklace for later, standing up again, his calf muscles resisting him as he'd sat on them for too long. He didn't know of any place to sell the jewelry where he wouldn't get called out for being a thief, raggedy and filthy as he was, but a town this size, there had to be some kind of black market somewhere, didn't there? First, though, he needed food.  
  
     Brian's father had always been the kind of man who took well to everyone. A good-tempered, humorous man who acted almost the same towards any adversary as he did towards his own good friends. Brian supposed that's what'd gotten him into trouble in the first place; smiling and jesting at square-jawed, burly gorillas with zero tolerance for bullshit and loaded rifles in both hands. He also guessed it hadn't helped that said gorillas were moonshiners that Brian's dad and his friends had taken alcohol from and just all around generally sabotaged.  
     They had come at night. The gunshots boomed sharp and loud throughout the entire house, and Brian thought he could feel them vibrate through the floor of his room where he was sitting crouched on the floor with his back against the wall, his dad having told him to go hide there just before the moonshiners had kicked in their front door. There were three; two quickly following each other, and one a few seconds later. Brian had pressed his hands over his ears and bit down on his knee so he wouldn't cry out or scream, thereby revealing his position, or even the fact that he was there at all.  
     He couldn't think about his father lying dead or dying downstairs, so as loud, stomping footsteps ascended the stairs and came towards his location, Brian shut off his brain, went over to his bedroom window, climbed out, and jumped. Then, he ran.  
  
     Staying in an area he knew had seemed like a last safe haven and sense of home for Brian during the first time after his father's death, and thus he hadn't strayed far from the places he'd used to go and the places his father had taken him on days when they went out together. He knew all of the streets and where they went (even better now that he was living on them), all the crooks and hidden niches, and could easily find detours and hiding-places when running from someone he'd stolen from.   
     The downside became apparent to him after some time; people recognized him. Rumors circulated about a pickpocket in the area, and people kept their things closer to their chests in fear of them getting stolen, and if people weren't already cautious around a boy with torn clothes and a layer of dirt on his skin, they certainly were wherever theft was mentioned. Plus, he'd already had a few incidents where he'd nearly run into people he used to know, and he wasn't about to let that happen again.  
     So it was then, on a grey afternoon some time in late September that Brian Haner Jr migrated into unknown territory and found himself bitterly alone among strangers who didn't know or care about him or where he came from or why he was there, because they had their own problems and worries to attend to, and because he was a beggar and a thief. And an orphan.   
     Brian leaned on and slid down along the rough surface on the brick wall of the rundown factory-building he was hiding behind while scoping out the area, crossing his arms over his knees and laying his head on his forearms. The thick fabric of his brown wool jacket caught on the brick, and it scratched at his back, but he ignored it, biting down on his lip as tears welled up in his eyes. He watched one fall to the ground between his legs, then pressed his face into his sleeve, forcing the rest of them away. At least he was still alive. He could turn this around. Things would get better, they would.  
     "Well, well, what have we here?"  
     Brian froze, almost not daring to look up. Not daring to even breathe.  
     It felt like years since anyone had talked to him other than angry yells and names as he ran away as fast as his legs would take him, but these words, he was fairly sure, were directed at or about him, and he was considering whether or not he should try to bolt. He lifted his head from his hands, slowly looking up at the two silhouettes that towered above him.  
     "Matt, he's just a kid, lay off." The guy that was farthest from Brian touched the other guy's (the one who'd spoken first) shoulder, but he shook the hand off, jerking his chin upwards at Brian. Not having to be asked twice, Brian clumsily got to his feet, his hands clenched in insecure fists by his side, though he felt at least a bit better now that he was at eye-level with the guys. (Well, almost - they were both taller than him, even standing up.)  
     "Well?" The shorter of the two guys raised his eyebrows at him, awaiting an answer. Though shorter than his friend, he was tall and broad-shouldered, and Brian could tell he was the type of guy he would never ever in his wildest dreams even attempt to pick a fight with. The size of his arms and torso alone revealed the amount of muscle he had, even through the fabric of his shirt and jacket. His hair was slicked back from his face, which right now looked rather unamused. Brian suddenly remembered himself and rushed to answer.  
     "I- I.. I'm, uh. I just. I." Brian's eyes flickered to the other guy, who, to his surprise, was looking back at him. He was the taller of the two, but not at all built like the other one. He was lean, almost lanky, with an oblong face and piercing blue eyes. Brian looked down. Nothing more was said for a few seconds as a silent conversation played out between the two guys, and Brian kept looking at his feet, still contemplating if running would be a good idea.  
     "This ain't your part'a town, kid. So I suggest you scram before you get yourself in troub-"  
     "Matt." The taller one grabbed the other one's (Matt, Brian supposed his name was) shoulder again, firmly this time, and turned him around a little.  
     "What, Jimmy?" His brows were furrowed, but his expression softened slightly when the taller guy gave him a pointed look.  
     "Do I have to remind you how  _we_  met?"  
     The burly one,  _Matt_ , sighed and shook his head slightly before stepping back a little. Brian figured he should have ran while they were talking to each other, but as soon as he'd gathered his thoughts enough to, the big one addressed him again.  
     "Who're you with?"  
     It was a simple question, and the guy's tone indicated that it was one he'd asked more than a few times, but Brian had no idea what he meant.  
     "With? I'm.. not- I mean- I- I'm on my own." Brian cursed himself for stuttering and fumbling his words so much, but he hadn't been confronted like this before. Definitely not while he was alone, and definitely not by two guys who looked like they could murder him with their hands tied behind their backs.  
     The guys exchanged quick looks, then two pairs of eyes fell on Brian.  
     "Where do you stay?" The taller one's piercing blue eyes looked at him like they could see through him, and it made Brian uncomfortable. He shifted his weight, rubbing at his neck with a hand and shrugging awkwardly.  
     "I don't." He said, rethinking and adding a mumbled "Stay.. anywhere.."  
     Another few seconds of silence passed before Brian looked up.  
     "Come with us." The guy named Jimmy said, turning around to start walking, probably back the way the two of them had come.  
     "No, Jimmy,  _hold on_." The one named Matt protested, folding his arms across his chest. He lowered his voice, probably intending for Brian not to hear it. "Are you sure?" He shot a glance over at where Brian was standing, still confused.  
     The taller one nodded, murmuring something back that made the burly one press his lips together in a reluctant grimace. "Fine." He gave, dropping his arms to his sides and turning slightly towards Brian.  
     "What's your name, kid?"  
     Brian swallowed. "Brian." At least he'd managed  _that_  without stuttering.  
     "Well, come along then, Brian, and be quiet."  
     Following two scary-looking strangers that had approached him on the street few minutes ago sounded sketchy and ill-advised to just about anyone, Brian thought, but where else did he have to go? What else was he gonna do? If they were gonna kill him and sell his body parts at least his misery would be over. He stuck his hands in his pockets and trailed after the two guys, making sure to stay at least a meter or so behind them at all times. Just in case he changed his mind.  
  
     Walking through streets he hadn't seen before, Brian did his best to take note of his surroundings, attempting to map them out in his head for later, but the two guys he was with were swift and quiet through crooks and around corners, and Brian had to keep most of his focus on trying not to lose them, and to keep up and try to be quiet, like they'd instructed him to.  
     It was easy to see that they were overly familiar with this town, and Brian was beginning to wonder if they actually were like himself. Their clothes were in a bit better condition than his were, and they seemed overall cleaner, but not by much, and not at all clean enough to be seen as decent if they went out on the street amongst people. Their route consisted entirely of backstreets and alleyways, away from the main streets, and they weren't seen or met by anyone.  
     A hushed conversation was going on in front of him, and Brian did his best not to eavesdrop, but there weren't any other sounds to distract him but their footsteps, and counting them wasn't enough to get his mind off things.  
     "D'ya think we should've blindfolded him?" The burly one said, adding a hissed "He's probably a spy!"  
     The thin one sighed.  
     "He's not a  _spy_ , Sanders - look at him! He's just a  _kid_ , and he's in trouble."  
     "Probably got into it himself." The big one grunted, sticking his hands in his pockets.  
     "Still." The taller of the two retorted, flinging a hand out. "Come on! We could do with some fresh meat. He could be useful!"  
     "Yeah, or he could be an idiot. Remember the last time we picked a kid up off the street?" He turned his head half-towards the other, and he was smiling slightly, one eyebrow cocked. It was astounding how just a facial expression could change the way you perceived a person, and just by smiling, the one named Matt suddenly looked a lot friendlier. Maybe it was the dimples.  
     "Seward?" The tall one said, and they both exchanged looks again, then laughed, the sound of it filling and and echoing off the walls of the narrow alley they were walking through. Matt's laugh was deep, like his voice, but softer and less booming that Brian would have guessed. The tall one,  _Jimmy_ 's laughter was higher and more chuckle-y, and the corners of Brian's mouth twitched a little listening to them. He pressed back a smile, though the sound of laughter was one he hadn't heard in more than a while, and it was relieving, really.  
     Suddenly, the two guys slowed down their pace, and shortly after came to a stop, in front of a door that Brian wouldn't have noticed if they hadn't been looking right at it. Matt gave the door a few quick raps with his knuckles, and few seconds later, a slightly high voice could be heard, muffled through the wood door.  
     "Password?"  
     A pre-pubescent voice, actually, it sounded like, and Brian wondered if this wasn't the Seward-boy they'd mentioned earlier.  
     "Get the fuck outta my way, you little twit." Matt laughed, pushing the door open despite the boy's best efforts to keep it closed. Brian couldn't see much, as both Matt and Jimmy were blocking his view, but from the sound of it, the boy had fallen to the floor when Matt pushed the door open on him, and was now collecting himself.  
     "M-Murray says I'm not supposed to let anyone in without the password!" The boy protested, his voice breaking.  
     "I know what Murray says, Johnny." Matt said, patting the boy on the head in passing. "Keep up the ace work."  
     Jimmy followed after, chuckling a bit, and Brian got a look at the boy when he too passed, the boy meeting his eyes with interest. He looked young, younger than Brian even, and he was short and stubby with brown hair and eyes to match.  
     They were walking through a narrow hallway that mouthed into a larger room, and Brian's jaw dropped a little when they entered it. The room was big, though dilapidated and shabby, with a high, triangular ceiling and an open loft which seemed to serve as a dormitory. There were boys like Matt and Jimmy everywhere, boys like  _himself_. He didn't have time to get a proper look, though, because Matt and Jimmy kept walking, so he paced after them away from the large main room and up a small staircase to another hallway that ended with a small space and a door.  
     Again, Matt took the lead and knocked on the door, but no one answered. Matt huffed a little, sent a sideways glance at Jimmy and knocked again. The scraping of a chair, then heavy footsteps sounded before the door was ripped open.   
     " _What_? I'm busy!"  
     The man standing in front of them was large. He almost filled the entire door-frame, and it was all Brian could do not to take a step or two backwards. He supposed  _this_  was Murray. Murray was tall, but it was obvious that his best years were long passed, and he was definitely not in very good shape anymore, if he ever had been. He had a large gut, and the folds of skin around his chin and neck were shadowed with thick salt-and-pepper stubble. Grey hair covered his head, though his hairline had receded a fair amount, and beneath a broad, shiny forehead and bushy eyebrows lay a set of hard, unforgiving blue-grey eyes.  
     "Sir, we, uh.." Matt looked at the floor in front of Murray, falling silent for a bit. "We found-"  
     "You brought in  _another_  damn kid?" Murray roared, stepping into the hallway with them. "I ain't runnin' a damn orphanage, boy!"  
     Matt kept bowing his head, looking at Murray's feet. "I understand, sir, but.." He looked at Brian for a split second. "He could be useful. We'll show him."  
     "Yeah?" Murray spit. "Come tell me that again after he  _fucks up_!"  
     "We'll take care of him, sir." Jimmy shot in, risking a look at Murray. "You won't get any trouble."  
     The red of Murray's face faded a bit as he thought it over, but the angry grimace seemed to be a permanent one. "Fine." He scoffed, and Matt and Jimmy sighed a little. Brian thought he could detect a hint of relief on their faces, but honestly, he was confused. What was this place?   
     "But if you two," Murray pointedly gestured to Matt and Jimmy in turns, scowling at them. "Or  _Baker_  bring me any more charity cases.."  
     "We understand, sir." Matt said, nodding his head slightly. "Won't happen again."  
     "Good." Murray stepped forward towards Brian, the other two boys remaining where they were, now behind Murray, and all three of them; Jimmy, Murray and Matt were facing Brian. Brian swallowed loudly.  
     "What's yr name, kid?"  
     Brian didn't like being called a  _kid_  by anyone - he'd turn eighteen on his next birthday! But he hadn't protested when Matt and Jimmy had done it, and he certainly wasn't about to give Murray any lip, so he answered.  
     "Brian. Brian Haner, sir."  
     Murray scoffed again, his chin jiggling a little. "Ya take me for a fool, kid? Brian Haner's a doornail. Try again."  
     Both Matt and Jimmy sent him stern looks, and Brian stuttered a little when he answered again.  
     "M-my name  _is_  Brian Haner, sir." He looked up at Murray, adding "Junior."  
     Matt and Jimmy exchanged quick glances, and Murray's eyes widened. Brian had no idea what these people had to do with his father, but they obviously knew him. Whether they were friends or enemies was impossible to tell. Maybe they just knew his name. How, though? Brian had never known his father's name to be especially familiar to anyone. Especially not in  _this_  environment. Well, maybe a little bit, but he hadn't been a gang-member or anything like that, he was a family man! Brian furrowed his eyebrows.  
     "Well." Murray said, his expression melting a bit. "I'm intrigued. Brian Haner's son in my house. Fancy that." He looked like he was about to turn away, but then changed his mind, remembering something, he gestured at Brian.  
     "Empty yer pockets."  
     Brian sputtered a little, shooting confused looks at Matt and Jimmy. Matt had his eyebrows raised in a warning at him, and Jimmy nodded quietly, urging him on.  
     He stuck his hands in his pockets, coming up with the pearl necklace from a few days before, and the three coins he had left. Murray held out a fat, spade-sized hand, and Brian cautiously dropped the items into his palm, confused as ever.  
     Murray turned his back on him, addressing Matt and Jimmy again.  
     "Get him settled. He's yer responsibility. He fucks up, all of you take the consequences. Ya punks understand me?" He didn't wait for a response, stepping back into the room he'd come from and slamming the door shut behind him.  
     They stood there for about three seconds, before Jimmy cracked a smile. Matt too, though despite himself, it seemed. They walked over to Brian and slapped their hands on his back, making his breath hitch. Brian smiled back at them, the expression unfamiliar on his face. He hadn't smiled in what felt like ages. Much less grinned or laughed. He hadn't been happy, and he'd had no reason to be. Maybe this was a new start?  
     "You did good, Brian Haner." Matt said, and both him and Jimmy laughed. Brian didn't get what was funny.   
     They led him back down the hallway and towards the main room again, several pairs of curious eyes following them as they crossed it and headed for another staircase, the one Brian supposed led upstairs to the loft.  
     Like he'd guessed, it  _was_ a dormitory; the floor cluttered by an amount of beds and a fair few sleeping-mats, some with blankets or pillows, some without. There were a few small rooms up there, too, but all the doors were closed.  
    Brian followed the two older boys between all the clutter towards the far wall, where the slanting ceiling met the floor and there was little space. There was an unused sleeping-mat there that Matt stopped a few feet from, holding his hand out towards it.  
     "This is where you'll be sleeping." He said, shrugging. "Sorry, but you're new, so. That's just how things are."  
     Brian didn't mind at all, nodding gratefully at them both and smiling, his lips pressed together. Anything was better than sleeping on the sidewalk. At least now he had a roof over his head.  
     The other boys went to sit down on the floor, and Brian followed, going over to sit on his sleeping-mat, just because.   
     "Alright," Matt began, looking at Brian. "So, the rules are pretty simple. You go out, take what you can and give it to Murray at the end of the day. He gives you food and shelter."  
     Brian blinked.  
     "That's all." Matt shrugged, looking over at Jimmy. Jimmy nodded, pouting his lips a little.   
     "You can stick with us for now," He said, Matt shooting in "Yeah, we'll show you the ropes."  
     Brian was aware he hadn't said much, but what was there to say? This whole thing was a bit unbelievable.   
     "Thanks." He got out, biting at the insides of his cheeks.  
     "Well, take some time to get settled. Dinner's served in not too long, then we're done for the day." Matt said, getting up. Jimmy followed. They both headed into one of the rooms, closing the door behind them. Brian fell down on his mat, looking at the ceiling that was way too close for his liking. He was sure he was going to end up knocking his head on it more than once.  
  
     Dinner was a somewhat chaotic affair, and Brian did his best just to blend in, slumping his shoulders and praying no one noticed him while he sat there and watched the others, chewing on stringy and tough pieces of unidentifiable meat.   
They were seated along a long table, on sturdy wooden benches probably carved from the same tree as the table itself, and both looked like they'd withstood years of hardship. Bumps and indents covered the rough surface; sharp, v-shaped ones that looked like maybe they could have been inflicted by knives, and blunt round ones like someone had slammed something into the table. Along one edge, one fairly large crescent-shaped hole even made it look like a piece had been broken off. Brian averted his eyes. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know most of those marks had come to be.  
     At the opposite side of the table, a few feet away from Brian sat Matt; Jimmy at his right side and a stocky, black-haired boy at his left. Out of all the boys at the table, Matt was the one who talked the loudest, laughed the loudest. The one who demanded everyone's attention and was given it instantly. Brian smiled a little looking at him, thinking that were they dogs, Matt would have been the pack leader. The alpha. Everyone talked to him, wanted him to talk to them - everyone laughed at his jokes - and the conversation centered most of the time around the part of the table where he was sitting. He seemed like he enjoyed it, too, all wide grins and belly-laughs.  
     "Watch out so you don't drool," A voice interrupted, cutting into Brian's thought-stream and snapping him out of his own head.  
     "What?" He jumped a little. "I- I wasn't-"  
     The boy next to him laughed, and Brian noticed that he was the one Matt had pushed out of the way earlier; the kid at the door. What had his name been again? George? Josh?  
     "I was just..." Brian trailed off, not being able to come up with a good explanation of what he'd been doing. He realized how he must have looked to anyone who'd caught him staring at Matt like some creeper, cursing himself. "Thinking. I zoned out."  
     "Whatever you say." The boy laughed again, shaking his head before presenting his hand. "I'm Johnny, we kinda met earlier. You're the new guy, right? Haner?"  
     "Brian." Brian said, shaking Johnny's hand. It was warm and a bit clammy, but he had a firm grip for such a small person, and didn't let go until at least a couple of seconds had passed.  
     "Nice to meet you, Brian." Johnny said, taking another bite of his food, then putting his fork down and looking at him. "So. Besides creepily ogling our fearless leader, what's your deal?"  
     Johnny was a good kid. Brian learned that he was fifteen years old, and that he had come here six months ago after his parents died in a fire. He wondered if all the kids in this place were without parents. It was a sad thought, but - why else would they be here if they could have been staying with their family?  
     When they were going to bed later that night, just after lights out, Brian caught Johnny looking at him from across the room with this weird smile on his face that he couldn't interpret. He looked kind of excited, but also sympathetic, and like he was in on a secret that Brian wasn't. Brian just furrowed his eyebrows and shrugged it off, curling up on his sleeping mat. He didn't have anything but his jacket to pull over himself, but he didn't mind - like he'd predicted earlier, sleeping here was definitely a lot better than sleeping on the streets.  
  
     When Brian started awake, the room was still pitch-black, and as he couldn't see, all he knew was that there was a large hand clamped over his mouth. Before he could try to make a sound, he heard a low  _shh_ close to his face, and then some shuffling and low laughs around the room. Was  _everyone_  awake? What was going on?  
     Someone struck a match, and for a split second everything was illuminated. Then the flame settled, and the guy who was holding it lit a candle with it, throwing the match away. Brian's eyes darted everywhere, but quickly settled on Matt's face in front of him, his finger on his own lips as he repeated the  _shh_ -noise with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was Matt's hand that was clamped over half his face, Brian realized, nodding nervously when Matt raised his eyebrows at him. He slowly removed his hand and stood up, looking down at Brian.  
     Behind Matt were all the other boys that Brian had seen at dinner, dressed and awake, and there, flanking Matt, was Jimmy and the black-haired boy from before as well. Brian tried to breathe calmly, following Matt's instructions of being quiet, but his heart was racing pretty damn fast, and he had absolutely no idea what was going on.  
     "Grab him." Matt grinned, and four boys about Brian's age and size emerged from behind him, grabbing all four of Brian's extremities, one each, and lifted him off his sleeping mat. Brian squirmed, but Matt kept shushing him, so he bit down on his lip and tried not to move as they carried him down the steep stairs from the loft and towards the door to the street outside.  
     Maybe this all had been some kind of sick joke; pretending to give him a place to stay and then throwing him out after all. Maybe this had something to do with his father. What was it that Brian didn't know about him that they did? Maybe they  _were_  gonna chop off and sell his body parts after all. Or maybe they were gonna eat him.  
     He had all but accepted his sad fate when they began to pull his clothes off, (probably so they could sell them, too, without blood-stains to worry about) and when he was in his boxers, they finally put him down.  
     "What is th-" He started to hiss, but Matt raised his eyebrows warningly at him again, reminding him to shut up. Then he walked up and but a hand on Brian's shoulder.  
     "Brian Haner," He began. The others laughed. "Junior." He said with a sly smile, continuing. "If you really want to be one of us, there is something we now require you to do. Are you up for that?"  
     Brian swallowed, once again not knowing what to do other than complying. He nodded shakily. A wave of hushed cheers and noises of approval went through the watching crowd. Brian's heart thumped against his ribcage.  
     "Alright, good." Matt crooned, drawing out the word and tightening the hand on Brian's shoulder. He felt like a dog already, an obedient one, part of the pack and being bossed around by the alpha. Either way there was no telling what they were gonna do if he refused, so he stood there, literally shivering in only his boxers with Matt's hand on his shoulder and a crowd of onlookers behind them.  
     "Now what you're gonna do is cross the street, pick the lock to Murray's front door open, go upstairs and through the first door on the right, and take the bottle of whiskey from his nightstand. Then bring it back here and we'll baptize you." Matt ended his instructions with an easy smile, implying that it was a simple task he'd just charged Brian with. A low rumble of laughs emerged from the spectators, then Jimmy and the black-haired one stepped forward, pushing the door to the alley open. Suddenly the stones of the paved street came rushing towards him, and Brian  _just_  managed to catch himself with his hands, falling to his knees on the cold street. Matt had pushed him out, he realized, and awkwardly got to his feet, stumbling a little. The others laughed.  
     "Here." Matt threw something small on the ground before him, something that produced the ring of metal falling against a hard surface, and Brian leaned down to pick it up. It was a hairpin. He didn't have a pocket to put it in, so he clutched it in his hand, swallowing hard and closing his eyes for a moment, then taking a deep breath, his back to the many pairs of expecting eyes illuminated by candlelight in the doorway behind him.   
     He took a step forward. Another one. His bare feet made no sound on the rain-wet pavement as he made his way towards the only other door he could see in the narrow alleyway. It was worn and in bad condition, and the lock and handle were rusted - but still it seemed in better condition than the one he'd just been pushed out of. Another steadying breath and Brian eased the hairpin into the keyhole. He'd never done this before, but how hard could it be, right? Apparently harder than he'd thought. Brian stood there outside Murray's door, rummaging with the lock for what felt like ages, to the low snickers of the watchers. When something inside the door finally clicked, Brian sighed audibly, forgetting himself before drawing in a sharp breath and holding it as he slid the door open slowly, quietly.   
     Once inside, Brian shut the door and was in an instant surrounded by nothing but darkness and a pressing silence. Next, the sound of his hammering heart became evident, though he'd been blocking it out until now, concentrating on something else. Then, the muffled sound of rumbling snores bled through the ceiling from upstairs and Brian froze for a second. Well, on the bright side of things; if Murray woke up and busted him, he'd probably shoot him, and at least that would be a quick death. Hopefully.  
     Brian started slowly towards the outline of a staircase he could see, praying with all his might that it wasn't a creaky one. He pressed himself against the wall and lifted a foot onto the first carpeted step, precariously putting his weight on it. Not a sound. He thanked and praised whatever gods there were and kept going, one slow step at the time, towards upstairs and Murray's bedroom. The snoring became more and more distinct as he got closer, and Brian guessed it was an advantage. Perhaps it would drown out any and all sound Brian was making? At least he could tell whether the old man was sleeping or not.  
     In another lucky break, Brian discovered that the bedroom door was unlocked as he turned the doorknob and the door gave way, hitting Brian with a wall of thick, alcohol-smelling air as he stepped inside. Murray was lying on his back on the uncomfortable-looking bed, one of his hands on his fat stomach, the other dangling from the edge of the bed towards the floor. His mouth was hanging open, salt-and-pepper chins shaking with each loud snore. Brian left the door open - he'd just be in and out, real quick - and used the expanding line of dim light from the open door to sneak his way towards Murray's bed.  
     Like Matt had said, there was a bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, half of which Murray had probably downed before going to sleep. Brian crept towards it, carefully extending his hand to grab it.  
     The floor creaked. Murray stopped snoring.  
      _Shitshitshitshitshit_. Brian's eyes went wide and darted towards the bed. He stood completely still. Maybe Murray wouldn't see him. Maybe he'd think it was a dream and go back to sleep. Maybe he hadn't woke up at all. Maybe he was mulling over different ways to murder Brian and was lying still just to scare him.  
     Murray grunted and flipped over to his side, face towards the wall, and kept snoring.  
     Brian almost coughed, choking on the sigh of relief he had just held in, grabbing the whiskey bottle and backing out of the room as quickly as his feet would take him without making any noise. He closed the door, his eyes watering up from the itch in his throat. He almost tripped and dropped the whiskey bottle going down the stairs, but saved himself just in time, grabbing the railing. Fuck if he was gonna get caught when he was this close to getting away with it. He fumbled a little with the front door before getting it up, but it clicked open and shut without much fuss, and Brian turned the hairpin the opposite way from what he had earlier and the lock slid in as well before Brian removed the pin, hooking it on the elastic of his underwear.  
     Blinking away the water in his eyes, Brian let out the cough that had been catching in his throat, breathing heavily now that he was safe again. Walking towards the crowded doorway again, Brian was met by all smiles until he handed Matt the bottle. Matt was the first one to look surprised, followed by Jimmy and the black-haired one, then the rest of them.  
     "It's opened." Jimmy said in a wondrous tone, watching as Matt turned it in his hands.  
     "Not just that." Matt replied, slanting the bottle a little, making the brown liquid shift around. "It's fucking half empty!" A pair of yellowish eyes met Brian's, and he heard Matt ask, "Where did you get this, Brian?"  
     Brian sputtered. "F-From Murray's nightstand." He didn't understand. That  _was_  what they had told him to do, wasn't it? A wide grin spread across Matt's face, and the soft bass of his laughter filled the air. Brian didn't get the joke. "He did it." Matt announced, laughing louder, incredulously. "He fucking  _actually_ did it!"  
     The others finally caught on, some smiling, grinning, others laughing along with Matt. Matt wheezed and slapped Brian on the back, grabbing his shoulder again. "I  _knew_  I liked you, Haner."  
     "I don't get it." Brian simply stated, his eyes moving from Matt and over the small crowd of guys. "I did what you asked me to do!"  
     "You sure did!" Matt beamed at him, furthering Brian's confusion. Jimmy shot in, then, smiling as the rest of them "Yeah, but - you see, Brian - there's a liquor-cabinet literally just inside the front door in the hallway." Then, with a shrug, "All anyone ever does is bring us an unopened bottle from there. No one ever actually goes up to Murray's bedroom. At least until now." He chuckled as what he said dawned on Brian like a blow to the stomach and the blood drained from his brain.  
     "So you're saying I could've- I-" Brian buried his face in his hands, croaking out a mock sob. "Oh my  _god_." This brought on a new wave of laughter from Matt, who was roaring with it by now, yelling for the bottle.  
     "Bring it here, you idiots. I said -  _give it to me_!" He snatched the bottle from a skinny kid with broken glasses and an acne-covered face before he could take a sip as most of the other boys had, the amount of whiskey in the bottle now an inch lower than it had been.  
     "On your knees." He told Brian, the hand on his shoulder forcefully pressing him down until Brian remembered himself and let his knees give way, hitting the wooden floor just inside of the door. He looked up. Matt took a swig from the bottle, a drop of whiskey from the mouth of it spilling and running down Matt's chin to his neck. Brian wet his lips with his tongue.  
     "Now, shut up everyone." Matt said unceremoniously, before turning serious and raising the bottle above his head. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but the smile was obvious in his tone. "I hereby name you Brian Haner Jr, of the Renegades." He lowered the bottle again and poured it over Brian's head, the alcohol dripping from his hair and onto his bare chest and shoulders as the others cheered.  
     Then, without warning, the crowd scattered, and a firm hand grabbed Brian's upper arm and pulled him to his feet. It was the black-haired boy. Matt's friend. He pushed Brian's clothes to his chest, giving him a quirky smile. "Good luck, Haner."


	2. Remenissions

     " _Ow!_ "  
     Brian pressed his palm to the top of his forehead, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. And he swore for the millionth time, as he crawled a few meters across the floor and away from his sleeping mat, that he was gonna go at that damn ceiling with a sledgehammer some time, to give it some payback for all the times it'd hurt him.  
     On the sleeping mat next to his, Johnny sat laughing, trying and failing to pull his shirt on as he was shaking from the laughter. Brian hit him on the back of the head, grumbling for him to shut up.  
     "You'd think you'd have a  _dent_  by now," Johnny snorted, meeting the death-glare Brian sent him unblinkingly.   
     A week or so after Brian's arrival, Johnny had arranged a switch of places, so the two of them were now sleeping next to each other on the floor. Brian had asked him to take  _his_  mat, closer to the wall and the low ceiling, but Johnny had just laughed at him, even though he was shorter, and probably wouldn't bang his head every morning when he woke up. Still, it was nice to have a friend, even if said friend  _was_  a couple of years younger than him, and several times more annoying. At first, Brian had wanted to hang out with Matt and Jimmy, but quickly learned that  _that_  wasn't something you just did. Jimmy and Matt, along with the black haired kid (Zachary was his name, Johnny had told him. Zachary Baker.), were of the oldest boys there, and by far the most experienced. If you wanted a place among them, you had to earn it; so Brian watched the three of them - plus a select few others they picked out and took along - go out every morning and then coming home just before dinner with their pockets full. He himself scrubbed floors (and every other dirty surface available) with Johnny, or got sent to the kitchen to help out there. It was hard, tiresome work, but it was worth the roof over his head and the food, and even sticking with Johnny turned out to benefit him, as he somehow seemed to know everything about everyone and what they had been and were doing at all times. Johnny himself claimed that it was because no one noticed him, so he could listen in on conversations and spy on people, but Brian had his doubts about his methods. Either way, he was fairly soon up to date on who was who around the house and what their story was, and Johnny was a loyal kid, if nothing else. A good friend.  
     They were set to washing the stairs that morning, and the soft sound of soap-water sloshing around in the bucket and splashing on the wooden steps filled the air along with Johnny's easy chattering. It filled Brian with a warm, glowing feeling that he hadn't felt in a while.  _Happiness_ , he was pretty sure they called it. It wasn't much, more like a small candle flickering in the dark shitstorm that was constantly raging inside him, but it was there.   
     Abruptly, Johnny's talking ceased, and his eyes went a bit round as he looked up at something - or some _one_  - behind Brian. They were at the bottom of the steps still, so when Brian turned his head, his eyes landed on jean fabric and a little bit of sweater. He raised his eyes slowly, and probably fairly comically so as well, seeing hands, chest, shoulders, neck, and then slightly smirking face as he raised his gaze to meet a pair of amber eyes.  
     "Get your jacket, Haner."  
     "Wh-what?" Brian blinked. Looked over at Johnny. Johnny was slumping a bit, seeming irritated.  
Matt rolled his eyes, leaned down and grabbed Brian by the arm, and hauled him to his feet.   
     "Go on, I ain't got all day." He let go of his arm with a little shove towards the laundry room, where most of their clothes usually were, and Brian jogged over to get his jacket. When he got back, Matt turned and started walking towards the door without a word, and Brian, after a last look at Johnny (who was frowning into the bucket of soap water), followed.  
     Outside, Jimmy and Zack were waiting, along with two boys everyone just called Pea and Garrett. Both because they were always together, like peas and carrots, and because Pea was short and round, and Garrett was built like a stick; long and thin. Brian had laughed when Johnny had told him, and apparently they were both as dumb as they looked, but somehow worked alright together, combining both their dim wits.  
     "Alright; let's go!"  
With Matt's words, they all started moving down the alley, back the opposite way Brian had come when he first came here. He'd barely been outside since then - much less gone wandering in the streets - so he kept close behind Matt the entire time, again trying to memorize where they were going.  
     Eventually, they all slowed down, and the next time they rounded a corner, a market street was straight ahead. Matt turned around, facing Brian and the rest of the group.   
     "Now's the time, Haner. Show us what you got."  
Brian swallowed and managed a nod. Again, Matt gave him a little push, and Brian found himself not really minding, even if Matt _did_  push him around, and had left a bruise on his arm from earlier. He walked towards the crowded street with slow steps, leaving the rest of the boys behind in the shadowed alley. There were people on all sides of him, and Brian's eyes darted around the crowd, looking for easy targets. There was an old beggar man with a cup of coins, but that'd be a petty move if there ever was one. One stressed-looking woman was furrowing her brows at a shop-window while a fat man was standing next to her, chattering away in an easy manner. He had his wallet sticking out of his back pocket. Talk about a lucky break - well, for Brian at least.  
     He made his way over, trying his best to go unnoticed and invisible between strangers and strangers and more strangers. Wasn't too hard, as no one paid him any mind - no one ever had. He positioned himself behind the guy, pretending to look into the shop window as well. It was a shoe-store, but guys needed shoes too, so there really shouldn't be anything inconspicuous about Brian's standing there.  
     Wriggling the wallet out of the guy's pocket was easy enough; the hard part was not getting noticed by anyone standing close by, or the guy himself for that matter. Worst case scenario, it would look like Brian was trying to feel him up, which was, in Brian's opinion, way worse than ever getting caught stealing. Not to mention that Matt and the other guys would probably laugh until they had tears in their eyes and then never let him forget about it after that. Ever. For the rest of his life he'd always be Brian Haner, the guy who grabbed fat guys' asses. Brian shuddered. Eventually, after what felt like agonizing minutes but was probably seconds, Brian had gotten the wallet halfway out of the guy's pocket, which was stretched tight from the amount of disgusting fat that was pressing on it, making it difficult to get anything at all either in  _or_  out of it. But in one final burst of courage, Brian drew a steadying breath, then yanked the whole thing out and ran for it.  
     When he arrived back in the alley, having skidded around the corner after making his way through the crowd, Brian was short-breathed and red-faced. He thought the guy had turned around and called after him, but he wasn't quite sure. At least he'd gotten away. The other boys grinned at him and stepped closer, Matt at their front.  
     "Well," He said, holding his hand out. "Let's see what you got."  
     "Huh. Get your own." Brian mumbled when he'd caught his breath, sticking the black leather wallet in his back pocket. He didn't know where it came from, and he kind of regretted the words as soon as he'd said them, suddenly realizing that he might have made someone angry. He was about to throw his arms protectively in front of his face and cry for mercy when Matt's rumbly laugh sounded. He looked up, and sure enough, Matt was laughing. Jimmy was smiling too, but Pea and Garrett looked uncertain.  
     " _Atta-fuckin'-boy_." Matt laughed and gave Brian a giant slap on the back that almost sent him stumbling forward, but he caught himself, trying to press back his own smile.  
     "Alright now," Matt said, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Watch me." He ran a hand through his hair, turned on his heel, and strolled right onto the market street like he owned the place. Everyone gathered close to the opening of the alley to watch Matt, listening intently for anything else he might say. Jimmy stayed back. A few feet in, Matt bumped into a passing man, immediately stepping back and apologizing.  
     "I'm so sorry, sir. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you all right?" There was genuine worry on his face. Brian was impressed. The man he'd crashed into just scoffed and brushed him off, hurriedly walking away. Matt turned around and grinned back at them where they stood, before turning away, walking further along the street. Not two minutes later, Matt put himself in the way of an elderly gentleman and laid a hand on his shoulder.  
     "Excuse me sir; do you have a moment to spare for our lord Jesus?"  
Brian heard a low snort coming from Jimmy who was standing a few feet behind him.  
     The man looked confused, but after a second or two shook his head 'no', and pushed past Matt. Matt, again, grinned at them, but this time turned around and came back towards the alley. They all stepped back into the shadows, and when Matt reached them, he was as calm as when he'd left. Pea and Garrett were staring expectantly at him with sheepish grins on their faces, and Brian had to admit he was rather curious, too. Matt held up a finger to them while digging in his pockets, telling them to hold on for a second, before he came up with a brown wallet.  
     "Guy number one," He said and smiled, sticking his hand in his pocket again. This time, he pulled out a beautiful, engraved pocket-watch that looked like it was made of real gold.  
     "Aaand guy number two." Matt smile was a full-on grin now, and as he stuck the items back in his pocket, Brian saw something else golden glint on his wrist. Apparently Jimmy saw it too, because he made a face, then asked;  
     "What's that? You dress up for a special occasion?"  
     "Oh! Right." Matt held up his wrist and pulled off what Brian could see now was a bracelet, a simple gold chain, sticking that too in his pocket. "Random passing girl. Her wrists were so skinny, poor thing, it just slipped right off." He grinned again, and Brian saw Jimmy roll his eyes so hard he thought they might pop out of his skull, but luckily - they didn't. Matt ruffled his hair and pushed him a little, earning a smile and another half-eyeroll.  
  


     _"I'm sorry, sir. Your wife is terminally ill. I'm afraid she's not going to make it. I give her a couple of weeks, maybe, a month at the most." The doctor clasped his leather bag shut and lowered his head respectfully before turning around and leaving the room. It was dark in there, the only pale light slipping in through the curtains on the window, making the dust motes that were floating around in the air visible. Brian watched them, hand clasped in the fabric of his father's pants. He felt him starting to shake and heard his hitched breaths as he sat back down on the chair next to his mother's bed._  
     "What's wrong, papa?" Brian patted his hands at his father's sides, demanding attention. "Is mama gonna be okay?"  
His dad didn't reply. He had buried his face in his hands and was being utterly silent. Brian looked at his mom. She had been lying in her bed for weeks now, and she looked white, thin. The areas around her eyes were dark, and her hair was wispy and lifeless. She was sleeping, but still she looked exhausted, her cheeks hollowed in, a slight sheen of sweat covering her forehead. She looked like a wilted flower.  
     Suddenly, he was being lifted up, and next thing he was in his father's lap, his father pressing him to his chest. He was still shaking, though he was breathing more heavily now, not as panicked. Brian put his arms around his dad's neck, his little hands patting at his back. He didn't know why his papa was so sad. Mama was going to be okay, wasn't she?

     When they got back, everyone was already getting ready for dinner, flocking around the table and trying to get seats near the middle. Brian craned his neck and looked for Johnny, and found him, seated between two boys neither of them had ever talked to before. He avoided Brian's glance, frowning into the beat-up wooden table. Confused and a little taken aback by the rejection, Brian sat down by himself, trying to figure out what had happened. Lost in his thoughts, it took a while for him to notice that someone was calling his name, but his head eventually snapped up, searching for the source of the noise.  
     "Hey, over here." Matt caught his eye, and with a little upwards jerk of his chin, signalled for Brian to come over. Brian got up and followed the bench along the table until he reached the empty spot they had made for him, between Zack and a boy Johnny had told him was called Mitch. On the opposite side of the table was Matt - Jimmy at his side as usual - and another guy who Brian had seen around Matt a lot. His name was Jason, as far as Brian could remember. He looked back at Johnny, who to Brian's surprise was downright  _glaring_  at him, but looked down again after a second or so of eyecontact. Brian furrowed his brows and sat down, refocusing his attention to Matt and his friends and pushing any worries he had about Johnny to the back of his mind. For the time being, at least.

      _There were a lot of things going on that day that Brian didn't understand. Some scary men came by the house in the afternoon and took his mom away on a stretcher they carried between them, their faces serious. His mom didn't move._  
     "Papa, where's mama going?" Brian was in his father's arms, higher up from the ground so he could see everything that was going on. His dad didn't answer at first. He looked sick, like his mom had been; dark circles around his eyes, his hair messy, an unkempt five-o-clock-shadow at his jaw. Later Brian learned that these were the effects of excessive consumption of strong alcohol over longer periods of time.  
     "To heaven, Brian."  
     The days that followed were confusing, firstly because Brian had to stay with his grandma. Everyone was acting strangely, and no one ever told Brian what was going on. People were either hurrying around with worried, ashen faces, or smiling and offering him nice things like cakes and toys. Brian saw several of his relatives that week, relatives that he'd never known, and would never know in the future. They all patted his head and said things like "You poor, poor little one.". Brian just looked at them.  
     The funeral was held at the end of the week, and Brian held his dad's hand all day and refused to move from his side. When they got home, Brian finally cried. He cried because everyone had been crying, he cried because he didn't understand what was going on. His dad held him as he screamed for his mother and wouldn't calm down for hours. Where was she? When was she coming back? Why _wasn't she coming back? He eventually fell asleep, having tired himself out with his fit, and his dad carried him to bed, falling asleep himself in a chair next to him in his room._

     "Johnny." Brian said for the hundredth time, sighing heavily. "You gotta talk to me, man,  _please_?"  
Johnny kept on angrily scrubbing the plate he was holding, like he intended for it to break under his sponge, or scrub until there was nothing left of it. Brian snatched it out of his hands to dry it off and place it on the pile along with the other clean plates.  
     "Johnny, I fuckin'  _swear_ ," Brian threatened. "If you don't talk to me soon, so help me I will piss on you in your sleep. And let me just tell you," Brian waved the fork he was drying in Johnny's face, "you sleep with your mouth open."  
     Johnny had refused to talk to (or even so much as look at) Brian since that day he'd been taken out for the first time. He looked close to, the third day, but then Matt and his gang had taken Brian out with them again, and Johnny's mood went from slightly cloudy to thunderstorm in a matter of seconds. Brian had actually been invited along several times during the last couple of weeks, sitting with Matt and his friends for dinner, and all of it just made Johnny more and more mad at him, it would seem.  
     "What? Fuckin'  _what_ , Brian?" Johnny's voice cracked, making him redden, but whether it was from embarrassment or further enragement, Brian couldn't tell.  
     " _Why_  are you so mad at me? Is it because I've been going out w-"  
     "I'm not  _jealous_ ," Johnny narrowed his eyes and stuck his bottom lip out, suggesting that jealous was exactly what he was. "Just because you have a hard-on for Matt and he knows it, doesn't mean you  _deserve_  to go out with them all the time."  
     Brian's eyes widened, and he swallowed as terror weighed down his stomach. "I do  _not_  have a- what do you mean ' _he knows'_?"  
Johnny smirked, deridingly raising his eyebrows. Brian stepped forward and grabbed the front of his shirt.  
     " _What did you tell him_?"  
Brian's anger and panic faltered a little to confusion when Johnny started laughing, and he shook him a little, demanding an answer.  
     "I didn't tell him anything, idiot." Johnny pulled his shirt out of Brian's grip, brushing it off. "But you just told  _me_."  
It was Brian's turn to redden, now, but it was definitely from embarrassment this time.  
     "Shut up," He grumbled, "little pre-pubescent shithead." he sulked into his dishes, dropping the next clean plate onto the pile with a rather loud crash. Johnny laughed again and splashed soap-water from the sink at him, earning himself a slap on the back of the head from Brian. They both laughed, and suddenly, just like that, they were friends again, cheerfully washing the rest of the dishes while Brian filled Johnny in on what he'd been doing out on the streets, and Johnny filled Brian in on everything else.

      _Brian and his dad did alright on their own. Eventually, they learned to live with each other. Brian's father comforted Brian when he was depressed or panicking, and Brian hid his father's alcohol when he was down enough to drink more than what was good for him. The rest of the time they were like any other family; they had family dinners and went on trips into town together, Brian had friends over and his dad had friends over, and life went on, and they had it good. His father seemed to make more and more money as Brian got older, and they lived well for a middle class family, though Brian never thought to ask about his dad's job. It seemed like his other friends' dads left in the mornings and came back around five pm, while_ his _dad left for work in the evenings and came back around five_ am _. Brian never gave it much thought, though - it just meant more time for him to spend with his dad in the daytime. What did it matter to him if his dad wasn't there while he slept, and slept while he was at school? It was a routine that worked.  
     Sometimes, his dad would come home bleeding or beaten up and refused to be taken to the hospital, so Brian had to learn how to patch him up himself, and they worked that out as well. Of course, there had been times when Brian had tried to ask. What did his father work with, really? Why did he come home hurt sometimes? Had he gotten promoted, how could they afford this or that? Why did they have to eat beans and bread this month when they could afford steak and gravy and potatoes the last? But his dad had always avoided the subject, starting to ask questions about how Brian did in school and similar things, so eventually, Brian stopped asking._

     "Excuse me, sir - do you have a moment to spare for the lord?"   
The middle-aged, well-dressed man looked them both over once, pushing his thin-rimmed, round glasses further up his nose.  
     "I most certainly do not." He harrumphed, waiting for them to move out of his way.  
     "Well," Matt said, holding the guy's wallet up in front of his face. "He has no time for you either."  
The man sputtered a little, feeling around his pockets for the wallet that was so obviously not there anymore. The second he tried grabbing for it, Brian stretched up and snatched his fancy top-hat. The man spun around, trying to cover his bald head with his hands and grab for his hat back at the same time. Brian looked, surprised, at the hat in his hands, and then he realized - _the man's fucking hair had come off along with it_.  
     "Oh,  _shit_ ," He heard Matt choke, and turned again, seeing him with his fist curled in front of his mouth, dimples visible on his cheeks as he tried to hold back his laughter. "Run!" He managed, and as one, he and Brian bolted away from the humiliated, now a-little-bit-poorer man, and towards the labyrinth of alleyways and backstreets that the tall houses of the city hid. They were both panting when they finally reached the outskirts of the busy shopping-streets, but they kept running.  
     "Cops," Matt wheezed, and again, Brian looked at  _him_  first, noting that he was still trying not to give in to a laughing fit, then turned back, seeing what Matt had seen - two stiffly dressed policemen running (at least trying to) after them. It did look kind of silly, and it definitely did not help the least bit, as they would, in fact, be quite the easy targets if they were rolling around on the sidewalk, laughing. They rounded a corner, and suddenly, Matt grabbed the fabric of his sweater at his upper arm, pulling him sideways towards a building with a frail-looking construction of metal stairs zigzagging up the brick wall towards the roof.  
     "Up this way," Matt said, letting go of his shirt once he was certain that he'd follow.  
They scrambled up the stairs as best their feet would carry them, trying to keep the clanging of metal to a minimum. They'd confused the policemen by going in circles through the narrow streets, and Brian couldn't see them anymore when he turned his gaze toward the street below. Once safely arrived atop the flat roof, Matt started jogging along the edge, looking down. Brian followed, not sure what was going on. They were well three, maybe four stories above the ground, and when Brian looked down again, he could see why Matt had stopped. The police officers were there below them, looking up. Matt was smiling slightly, and Brian - on impulse and without thinking - put the top-hat on his head, the shiny brown hair that was attached to it tickling at his jaw, and stuck both his middle fingers up at the officers. He just had time to turn around and see Matt's slightly incredulous facial-expression before the cops started running again, and them too. Matt started across the roof again, in the opposite direction, but Brian hesitated. Where was there to go, except back down the stairs they'd come up? In a matter of seconds, Matt was nearing the edge, and Brian's heart shot up into his throat as Matt - instead of slowing down - sped up, ran to the edge, and  _jumped off_. It took a second for him to register what had just happened, before he ran to the edge where Matt had been just a few seconds ago himself.  
     "C'mon, Brian, we ain't got all fuckin' day!" Matt's voice sounded, and Brian looked down, surprised. Matt was on the roof next over, his hands cupped on either side of his mouth so Brian would hear him as he yelled. "It's a bit of a drop, but you'll be okay, come on!"  
     The roof was indeed a few feet lower than the one Brian was standing on, and even though the gap between the two houses wasn't very big, it was still there, and it was frightening. Fucking  _roof jumping_ , who even  _did_  that? Still, it was roof jumping or getting arrested, so Brian backed up, got a running start and leaped off the edge, praying to whatever god that he wouldn't end up as a heap of blood and broken bones on the street below. When he landed, his knees gave, and pain shot up through his legs as he fell onto the concrete, rolling over onto his back. Matt was laughing.  
     "Ow." Brian sat up, slowly, offended that Matt would laugh at his poor roof-jumping-skills. It was his first time, after all.  
     "I-I'm sorry, I just-" Another wave of guffaws interrupted whatever he was going to say, and it took another few seconds for him to calm down enough to continue. "You should'a seen yourself - with that hat, and the-" He made a series of gestures that suggested long, flowing hair, then doubled over, laughing again. His laugh was higher than Brian had heard it before, less controlled.  
     "I'm glad you're amused." Brian said in a surly manner, brushing himself off.  
     "No, I mean, that was real graceful, man. Beautiful." Matt stood up straight again, his laughter reduced to a few chuckles, and held out his hand towards Brian. He hesitantly took it, and Matt hauled him up so he was on his feet again. "You looked like Abe Lincoln. The ballerina version."  
     Brian threw the hat at him, hair and all. "Shut up."  
     Matt gave him another grin and slapped his shoulder. "Come on, let's get outta here before those idiot cops come after us again." Brian scoffed, but followed, trying to picture in his head what his jump must have looked like.

     A _month or so before his father died was when everything started to go downhill. Brian didn't notice anything at first, but his dad was becoming increasingly stressed, and he was less and less at home, leaving Brian to fend for himself, mostly. He stayed with friends a lot, not liking being alone in the house one bit._  
     One night, his father had come home for once, sitting Brian down in the living room.  
     "What is it?" Brian asked, a bit uncertainly. He had an odd feeling, and the whole thing was off.  
His dad was looking at his hands, brows furrowed.  
     "Brian, I just want you to know," He cleared his throat, but he still spoke quietly, looking up at Brian now. "That- that if anything happens to me-" He put his hand on Brian's cheek, stroking it slightly with his thumb. "I want you to know that I am so, so proud of you." He hesitated for a second. "And I know that your mom would be too, were she here."  
     "Dad," Brian interrupted, confused. "Why are you saying this?"  
His dad shook his head slightly, his eyes glassy. "It's- it's nothing, don't worry about it. You'll be okay, Brian." He pulled Brian into a hug, kissing the top of his head. "You'll be okay, I promise."

     "And he came flying, arms flailing in the air like-" Matt was elaborately re-telling the story of their shenanigans earlier in the day, almost knocking down the people next to him at the table in the process. "With that hat, and the look on his face- it's- it was fuckin' hilarious, you all should have been there." He laughed, accompanied by the people around him. Garrett had the hat on now, snorting along with the rest of them, a dumb look on his face.  
     Brian, seated a few feet away from them, rolled his eyes at Johnny, who was laughing too.  
     "It wasn't  _that_  bad." He flushed a little, avoiding meeting the eyes of anyone at the table who looked in his direction. Johnny laid a hand on his shoulder.  
     "I'm sure it wasn't, princess."  
     Brian threw a piece of potato at him, pleased when it left a greasy mark on his forehead.

      _The night of his death, his father had come rushing through the door, slamming it shut behind him and leaning on it for a second, catching his breath. Brian looked up from his homework, puzzled._  
     "What's the matter?"  
His dad, having calmed down, came walking over to him, sitting down.   
     "Nothing, nothing. Do you need any help with that?"  
Brian looked at his homework again, then back at his father.  
     "No..? Are you sure you're okay?"  
     "Fine. Sorry." His father got up and went to lock the door, earning another weird look from Brian. What was going on? He closed his book, getting up as well.  
     "Dad, what's going on? And don't lie to me, please."  
His dad sighed, going over to pull him into a tight hug. Then, he let go, his hands on Brian's shoulders.  
     "Brian. No matter what happens from here on out, I never want you to think badly of me, okay? Remember me like I was when I was with you, and know that that _was the real me. I love you, son, more than anything, and I need you to promise me that you'll keep yourself out of trouble as best as you can. Okay?"_  
     "Dad, what's going on?" Brian said, his voice shaking a little.  
Then, there was yelling outside, and someone pounded on the door.  
     "Go," His dad said, trying to hide his panic, but Brian could see it in his eyes. He hesitated. "Run!" His dad urged again, pushing him towards the stairs. And Brian ran.

     "I'm just saying." Johnny turned around on their way up the stairs, looking down at Brian who raised an eyebrow at him. "Since you guys are best friends now, you should put in a good word for me. Tell him to let me come along as well next time."  
     "We are not  _best friends_ , Johnny. If I told him to do something, he'd probably kick me right back out onto the street again." They reached their sleeping mats, sitting down on Johnny's, so they wouldn't have to sit crooked beneath the ceiling to avoid hitting their heads. Johnny gave a short laugh.  
     "As if, Haner. You're his new favorite."  
     "Am not. Shut up." He realized he'd answered a bit too quickly, and Johnny grinned at him. Brian would smack him, as he so often did, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was the  _new_  favorite, who'd been the old one?  
     Suddenly, one of the doors of the four rooms opened, and Matt stuck his head out, looking in their direction.  
     "Brian? Can I see you in here for a sec?"  
Brian nodded warily, and Matt went back in, leaving the door cracked open. Brian exchanged a confused look with Johnny before he stood up and walked, uncertainly, towards Matt's room. About halfway across, he turned back again, and Johnny wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him. Brian scoffed, walking the rest of the way with more determination.  
     The room wasn't very big. A single lamp on a ratty nightstand lit up the room, though poorly so, and the only other things that were in there was a decent sized bed with a metal frame, and a small dresser. Or closet. Whatever it was. It wasn't much, but it wasn't like there'd been space for anything else, anyway. On the edge of the bed sat Matt, looking up at him. Brian stayed at the door, though he'd closed it behind him, sure that Johnny would run up and eavesdrop, a closed door would make it harder for him to hear what they were saying.  
     "Um... So, what did you want?" Brian said quietly, fingering the hem of his white shirt that wasn't so white anymore.  
     "Don't look so nervous! Shit. Relax." Matt stood up, folding his arms over his chest. "I just called you in here because although what happened earlier today was very amusing, you should be more careful in the future. That actually goes for me as well, but you know what I mean, right? We could have gotten arrested, and not only gotten the rest of the gang in trouble, but Murray, too. And then he'd surely violently murder us the second we got out of the big house. So... discretion, yeah? The whole idea is for no one to notice us, so we can keep taking their money." He pulled his shoulders up a little, shrugging before raising his eyebrows at Brian. A clear 'understood?' in his expression.  
     "Yeah. I'm sorry. Won't happen again." Brian nodded a bit, meeting Matt's eyes before turning around to leave.  
     "Hey, one more thing." Brian felt a large hand clasp his wrist, pulling him back around. Suddenly, he was pressed up against Matt, way too close for anything friendly, and then, their lips met.  
     Brian, too surprised to really have control of the situation, kissed Matt back automatically, his heart pounding in his chest, a steady stream of  _holyshitholyshitholyshit_  preventing his brain from working properly. After what felt like both ages and a millisecond, Matt pulled back, taking a step backwards towards the bed and away from Brian again.  
     "Okay, you can go now." A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, a mouth that Brian had just - holy shit - and he could see the faintest hint of a dimple. Brian could have sworn Matt's eyes glinted just before he turned around and tried to leave the room in a casual manner, instead of spurting out and slamming the door behind him. He managed it, though rather stiffly, trying to calm his pulse. When he was outside, safely separated from Matt by a wall and a closed door, Johnny was sat at his sleeping mat still, though Brian was about ninety percent certain he hadn't been there the entire time.  
     He didn't remember walking over, but all of a sudden he was there, half lying, half sitting on his sleeping mat.  
     "Brian? Hello?" Johnny waved his hands in the air above him.  
     "Huh?" Brian blinked, refocusing. "What?"  
Johnny rolled his eyes.  
     "What'd he want?"  
     "Oh, um. Nothing. Just... discreetness. Yeah."  
     "O-kay..?" Johnny said, dragging the word out, his eyes narrowing slightly.  
Brian shook his head, pushing Matt and his stupid face and his stupid lips to the back of his mind.  
     "Like you didn't fuckin' eavesdrop, anyway."  
     "Did  _not_!" Johnny gasped, a hand on his chest for dramatic effect. "Slander!"  
Brian snorted and rolled his eyes, lying down on his mat with his back to Johnny, facing the wall. That night, Brian dreamt of cold dark streets, the sharp, resonating sound of gunshots, the complete silence that followed, and then flames. There was screaming, yelling, and Brian felt like he was missing something important. Then there was amber, deep and sad and warm and determined, hardened and glowing. "I'm sorry." And then there was another gunshot.


End file.
